


Acquired Tastes

by gemstonecircles



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Brief discussion of birth control, Candy, Dancing, F/M, salmiak is definitely...something, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemstonecircles/pseuds/gemstonecircles
Summary: “Good God, Relena!” Dorothy spat out, still clutching at her heaving chest dramatically, “are you trying to poison me?”
Relationships: Relena Peacecraft/Heero Yuy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Acquired Tastes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookami/gifts).



“Ooooh, Valentine’s Day treats. I guess someone’s attempting to be a  _ semblance _ of a gentleman”, cooed Dorothy as she picked up the fancy box of candies sitting on Relena’s desk. Relena, not paying full attention to her visitor (who had arrived unannounced), took a second too long to notice before Dorothy was popping one of the dark confections into her mouth.

“Oh no, Dorothy, don’t…” Relena tried, but she was too late. Dorothy was already gagging and spitting the mouthful into the garbage before stepping to the small bar to wash out her mouth with a glass of water.

“Good  _ God _ , Relena!” Dorothy spat out, still clutching at her heaving chest dramatically, “are you trying to poison me?”

Relena glared at her, “Well, since I didn’t actually  _ offer _ you any, that would have been a pretty lousy plan, don’t you think?” She sat back in her chair, “Seriously, Dorothy, who just helps themselves to someone else’s Valentine’s Day candy?”

Dorothy flicked a stray strand of shiny blonde hair over her shoulder, “As your single friend, it’s my prerogative. But seriously, Relena, what on Earth  _ was _ that?”

Relena smiled sheepishly and a little fondly. “It’s salmiak. It’s a special candy. Heero brings me some every year.”

“With a card too, I see,” Dorothy said, clearly unimpressed, picking up the plain white envelope. Inside there was a single, plain card, with black block letters in a precise, almost draftsman-like hand, stating “HAPPY FEBRUARY 14.” Dorothy snorted. “How romantic.”

Relena turned to face her, and gently took the card in her hands. “I don’t know. It may not seem like much to you, but I really think it’s wonderful. Heero has an amazing way of finding the core of a holiday or celebration,” she smiled down at the card, “It gives me hope for everyone.”

Dorothy rolled her eyes, “Yes, that’s all very touching, but seriously? This,” she pointed at the box of dark shapes flecked with white crystals, “Is not romantic. Chocolates? Romantic. Caramels? I will allow it. Whatever this is? No. What even  _ is _ it?”

Relena moved the box away from Dorothy’s aggressively pointing manicure, “It’s a delicacy, okay? Heero sent it to me the first time while he was traveling through Scandinavia after the Barton Coup.”

Dorothy looked at her pointedly, “Did you tell him it was a disgusting crime against the  _ concept _ of candy?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Relena snapped at her, “after everything that he has gone through, the idea that I would reject something he gave me? What kind of person would do that?”

“Well, darling, you could have implied it,” Dorothy retorted, crossing her arms and glaring down at her, “Besides, his little  _ walkabout  _ was over five years ago. He’s still getting you this…salmi-whatever you called it?”

“Salmiak,” Relena responded quickly, “It’s salted black licorice. He has to special order it from Denmark.”

Dorothy shuddered, “And you never thought to say,” and here she put on a cloying falsetto that Relena could only assume was meant to be her, “‘Heero, sweetie, maybe chocolates this year?’”

Relena looked at her and smiled wryly. She reached into the box, selected a candy, and popped it into her mouth with twinkling eyes, “Unlike you, Dorothy,” she said around the salmiak, “I appreciate acquired tastes.”

Dorothy made a gagging gesture that still managed to be elegant, then rolled her eyes. She stalked back to hover, catlike, in the doorway. 

“Whatever,” she huffed, flicking her hair again, and cocking one hip to the side, “I just stopped by to make sure you were still going to the fundraiser tonight. And to make _ extra _ sure that you aren’t wearing pink. I simply can’t have us matching and unlike whatever dowdy thing you’ll throw on, my gown is to  _ die _ for.”

* * *

Heero paused outside the door to Sally’s office. He was pretty sure he had overheard the phrase “bimonthly spermicidal implant option” which meant that she was in conference and, although he respected personal responsibility, he really wasn’t prepared to learn the details of a colleague’s birth control choices. After a few minutes of waiting, Sally’s door swung open and her head appeared around the corner.

“There you are, Heero! C’mon in, I know I promised to do your bow tie, and we just finished up here.” He entered her office to find Duo poking experimentally at a small bulge in his bicep.

“Hey man, check it out! I just got an arm IUD!” Duo announced excitedly, and then stopped abruptly to take in Heero’s attire, “Woah, are you hitting up a high stakes poker game or something?”

Heero glowered, “Annual St. Valentine’s Fundraiser Ball for The Royal Museum of Pre-Colonial Arts and Culture. Relena has to go. I’m her plus-one.”

“And this guy,” said Sally teasingly, washing and drying her hands, “has yet to figure out how to tie his own bow tie. Okay, kiddo, let’s get you set.”

Heero stood at parade rest and looked up at the ceiling while Sally set to work on his tie and Duo continued to lounge in the patient’s chair.

“Fundraiser on Valentine’s Day, that sucks, man.” He finally finished fiddling with his implant and began rolling his sleeve down, “Hilde and I are getting pizza and going bowling. But I guess dating a Princess means you have to deal with the dragons, huh?”

“Guess so,” muttered Heero, still staring at the ceiling.

“Well, better you than me,” Sally added, adjusting his now-tied bow-tie slightly, “I hate those things. Besides, my tux isn’t as nearly as nice as yours.” She brushed off the shoulders of his jacket, “There,” she said fondly, “Now you’re perfect.”

Duo gave him a sloppy salute from his seat on the patient’s chair. “Knock ‘em dead,” he called before adding quickly, “But, like, figuratively, man.”

* * *

The Annual St. Valentine’s Fundraiser Ball for The Royal Museum of Pre-Colonial Arts and Culture was in full swing, and Heero had taken up his typical position leaning against the corner of the bar and observing. This fundraiser seemed no different than the dozens of others he had attended, and he even recognized several familiar faces. Dorothy Catalonia had arrived in a flurry of attention, wearing what he assumed was high fashion, but ultimately amounted to a sculptural scandal of deep pink ruffles, feathers, and diamonds. She looked, more than anything, he thought, like an exploding bomb. He fought the urge to hide behind the empty bar, but Catalonia had already pinned him with a disdainful glance. As she simply raised one absurdly groomed eyebrow and carried on, he felt safe to assume that he wasn’t on the menu for her night’s amusement, and sighed in relief. 

He settled back to watch Relena at work. She had already been around the ballroom three times, meeting new acquaintances and greeting old ones, exchanging cheek kisses with elderly royalty one moment, and in serious discussion with a fellow minister or diplomat the next. Heero watched as her attentive smile didn’t waver a millimeter as she politely listened to an singularly long anecdote from an older gentleman whose sizable sash and medals were eclipsed only by his enormous white moustache. Relena leaned forward in interest to hear the last of his story before joining the small group in peals of laughter. She seemed to see this as her exit, because her eyes met his, and she made her apologies, gently touching an elderly woman’s arm companionably with one gloved hand and holding the other out to squeeze that of the mustachioed gentleman. 

She was limping slightly as she joined him at the bar, and wordlessly held out a hand for her clutch. Heero grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and passed it to her as she popped two aspirin into her mouth. 

“I know I’m not supposed to take them with alcohol,” she murmured, “but if they do have water glasses at these events, I’ve never been able to find them.”

“I suppose it would ruin the ambiance to put in a water cooler,” he murmured back and she choked slightly, looking at him reproachfully. She swallowed, then sighed, turning to lean back against the bar and look up at the elaborate pink and red decorations hanging around the ballroom, “I think I am done with for social obligations for the night, but we should probably stay another hour at least.” 

Her upraised head and clasped hands highlighted the long line of her throat and the ruby necklace she had worn for the occasion. She had chosen a long, layered dress in dove grey with some kind of lacey bits along the collar and cap sleeves. She looked, Heero thought, both extraordinarily flammable and indescribably lovely. She turned and caught his eye. 

“You look sharp tonight,” Relena smiled at him, “Nice tie.”

Heero flushed slightly and tipped his head down, “Sally did it. I still can’t figure it out.”

Relena laughed and leaned against the bar again, “I have endless respect for every single one of you, but I honestly think that if Sally Po ever took a vacation, the Preventers building might burn down.”

Heero chuckled, “Probably.”

They stood together in silence, watching the crowds gather and disperse like flocks of birds. As they watched, the orchestra started up in earnest, and the socializing attendees parted to the sidelines as couples moved to the center to use the ballroom for its intended purpose. The high ceilings magnified the sound of the strings, and Heero closed his eyes to listen. He didn’t know the name of the song, but he recognized it. They often played it at these galas, and he found that he liked the way the air in the room rose and fell with the notes. He knew logically that it was just waves of noise, just sounds comingled. Nevertheless, that couldn’t explain his preference for one piece over another, or the pleasant tightness in his chest when the orchestra played a song he particularly liked.

He felt Relena’s hand gently touch his forearm, and his eyes blinked open.

“Are you tired?” she whispered, “We could probably sneak out early.”

He turned to look at her, noticing the concerned lines between her brows, “No. We haven’t danced yet. We came to a ball. We should dance. If your feet aren’t hurting too much.”

Relena grinned, and was suddenly a few inches shorter, as she kicked her heels into an inconspicuous spot behind the bar. “The wonderful thing about floor-length gowns is that if you trust your dance companion, no one has to see your shoes.”

“You trust me then?”

She giggled at him, taking his offered arm. “You have never  _ once  _ stepped on my toes. As long as you don’t mind me dancing barefoot.”

“You’ll just make me look taller,“ he shrugged, and they moved forward to join the couples swirling around the hall.

They managed to swing into a waltz, and even though he was paying extra attention to Relena’s feet, Heero was soon enjoying the familiar movements of the dance, the feeling of Relena’s arms in his, and the ebb and flow of the music. Relena was regarding him with a pecular expression.

“I was feeling guilty for dragging you here tonight, but you’re actually enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

Heero suddenly found the pattern on the floor exceptionally interesting, “I suppose. Yes. It’s interesting to watch you work. You look nice.”

Relena leaned in to tuck her head against his chest, “I always feel terrible for forcing you into parties, and I’ve been doing it  _ literally  _ since we met.”

Heero gripped her hand a bit tighter, careful to thread the line between comfortable warmth and crushing bone. 

“It’s okay,” he managed, finally. “I’ve always liked dancing with you.”

* * *

“You’re going to ruin your dress” he murmured in her ear as they walked along the boardwalk towards the beach, the ball still in full swing behind them, tickles of music reaching out to the ocean. 

“And  _ you  _ are starting to sound like my mother,” she replied, holding up her skirt and clutch with one hand and leaning on his arm with the other, her bare feet tentatively tiptoeing across the rough wood and then relaxing as they sank into the sand. 

“Besides, I have to keep sonic cleaners in business. It’s for a good economic cause.” 

She looked out across the dark ocean and pulled him a little closer. He was carrying her fancy shoes for her, and she felt slightly guilty, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“How is it,” she wondered aloud, “That that feral boy I found on the beach would be here with me now, carrying my heels after accompanying me to a ball? Sometimes I feel like everything we’ve been through, all of it, must be a fever dream.”

“You managed to re-order the governing systems of the entire world. Reordering my life seems simple compared to that. If it’s a fever dream, it’s a good one,” he frowned, “I hope it’s a good one. For you.”

She let go of his arm to walk backwards in front of him, long dress catching the surf and shifting from dove grey to dark, inky, black. 

“You, Heero, have never been simple. And reordering the world was just a byproduct of trying to make it better for you, and for people like you. Everything I did was because you reordered  _ my  _ world. And to have you here with me, now? It’s the best fever dream I could imagine.”

Heero fell silent, and she let herself be content with the lap of cool water over her sore feet, and the feeling of sand between her toes.

“What should we do now?” Heero finally broke the silence, “Duo implied that food was a traditional aspect of the holiday. Are you hungry?”

“Let’s stay out here a bit longer,” she replied, smiling, “I want to look at the stars. Besides, I have lots of salmiak in my clutch if we get peckish.”

Heero pulled a face, “I can’t believe you actually like that stuff. I hadn’t actually tried it when I sent it to you. I thought it was chocolate.”

Relena replied by pulling a candy out of her clutch and placed it in her mouth with exaggerated relish, grinning broadly. 

“I don’t just like it. I  _ love _ it.”

When he reached out his arms to draw her in, to hold her, and tasted the salt and licorice still on her lips, he decided that he loved it too. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A pre-Valentine's Day treat for cookami, who is not only a wonderful beta, but has been so encouraging with me finally coming out of the woodwork and trying to create in fandom, not just consume.
> 
> Salmiak/salmiakki is black salted licorice. It's intense.


End file.
